


Chanson Pour Little Italy (Song For Little Italy)

by CaptainCherryCola (AirbornBiohazard)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Austria Cameo, France Cameo, Germany Cameo, Greece Cameo, Gueules d’Aminche, Italian Mafia, Little Italy, M/M, Mafia Romano (Hetalia), Minor Germany/North Italy (Hetalia), Romano is a little shit, Songfic, Spain Is a Prostitute Who Just Wants Food, Translations At the End Of Every Chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-11 13:36:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10466241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirbornBiohazard/pseuds/CaptainCherryCola
Summary: A songfic for Gueules d’Aminche’s song 'Little Italy'.Lovino Vargas and his brother Feliciano were brought to America when they were very young. Their uncle Renzo was a semi-powerful mafioso fleeing persecution in Sicily. They joined a 'family' in New York, and the young Italians were raised in a world of organized crime and secrecy....This is the story of the rise and fall of Godfather Lovino Vargas.





	1. Verset Un (Verse One)

**Verset Un (Verse One):**

Renzo Vargas took a deep breath, letting the salt in the air sting his lungs. He sighed, happy to be somewhere safe, and happier to be going somewhere safer. Safer than home, at least. He paced the deck of the boat, reviewing his plans for when he got to America. He had a friend going with him who knew one of the big bosses in New York; hopefully they could get him a place to stay and work to do. He glanced behind him. Lovino and Feliciano were sitting a ways away on the ship, holding close to each other and watching the rolling water for the first sign of land.

Renzo hoped that all went well in America. He could not afford to move back to Sicily, especially not with his young nephews. They all had a price on their heads for leaving the old family behind. But what choice had they had? After the murder of the boys’ father, nowhere in Italy would have been safe anymore.

He shook his head. Things _were_ going to get better. He pulled one of his signature Black Dragon cigars from his jacket and lit it. He blew out smoke, which was immediately whipped away by the wind.

Spray from the ocean nearly put the small flame out. He frowned and waved to his nephews.

“Ragazzi! Tornate sotto il ponte; saremo lì tra un po.”

The two young Italians scampered under his feet to follow him inside.

_“Petit Lovi, vous êtes arrivé en contrebande en Amérique en bateau,”_

_(Little Lovi, you arrived, smuggled to America by boat,)_

_“Comme les autres immigrants des Irlandais, les Italiens, sur Ellis Island.”_

_(Like the other immigrants from the Irish, the Italians, on Ellis Island.)_

***

Lovino stood on his toes to see what was going on with the men sitting around the table in front of him. Renzo had his hand placed firmly on the boy’s shoulder, but let him look up to see.

He was talking to some scary-looking strangers he’d said were his friends. They were talking in an odd language, however, and Lovino could not understand them. He could only watch and guess what was happening.

“Padrino,” said the man who had given them the boat ride (at this, Lovino hoped he would begin speaking in Italian, so he could understand; but alas), “This is Renzo Vargas, a dear friend of mine from Sicily. He has come with his late brother’s two sons to escape persecution.”

The man called Padrino turned to Renzo. “A friend of Amadeo’s, hm? Any friend of his is welcome in my city. We can take care of you until you are back on your feet.” Renzo smiled and thanked him as he was handed a few things. Lovino felt a tug on his sleeve.

“Fratello, fratello, che cosa dicono?” Feliciano’s small whisper begged.

“Shh,” Lovino whispered back. “Non lo so, ma hanno consegnato Zio alcuni tasti e un mucchio di soldi... Io penso che significa che avremo un posto dove stare.” Lovino quickly turned back when the Godfather began to speak again.

“Well, that settles it. You’ll have our protection and a place in Cosa Nostra…” He stood and shook hands with the boys’ uncle. “Welcome to the family, Vargas; I hope you fare well here.”

_“Accompagné d'un grand-oncle Sicilien, et protégé par sa famille,”_

_(Accompanied by a great-uncle Sicilian, and protected by his family,)_  

***

It had been two years since they arrived in New York. As far as the boys could tell, they were getting along fine. They had both learned English very quickly, and their Italian came in handy as well.

One night, Renzo had a few of his family members over (as he often did), his ‘brothers’ or ‘compagni’, as he called them. They were talking business, and Lovino wanted to know what it was. Later in the night, when all of them had left except Amadeo, he started down the stairs, against Feli’s warning. “Lovi, what if you make them mad? Zio doesn’t like to talk about his work…”

Lovino simply replied, “He doesn’t like to talk to _us_ about it. He talks with his friends about it all the time.”

Feliciano let out a gasp “Fratello! You’re going to spy on them?”

Lovino shook his head. “I’m going to go get a drink,” he smirked. “it’s not my fault if I overhear something.”

His brother having been effectively silenced,  he continued sneaking down to the living room. The men were deep in conversation, and didn’t notice him immediately. He made his way behind the couch and crouched there, confident in his stealth.

“Cosa Nostra is doing well these days… I don’t think there’s been any conflict with the Rizzo clan or the Bruno family in months,” Renzo was saying. Amadeo nodded thoughtfully from the other side of the coffee table.

“The Rizzos are being unnaturally quiet lately; but I’m not too surprised the Brunos are being inactive, since they’re falling apart.”

“Falling apart? What do you mean?”

Amadeo lifted an eyebrow. “You haven’t heard? ...Godfather Bruno died a few days ago.”

“He died? You mean someone killed him? That should’ve sparked a war!”

This time Amadeo just shook his head. “No. He died in his sleep. Heart failure, or something like that. Old man Marino says that Bruno’s underboss, Gallo, will succeed him well… but I have my doubts.”

Renzo chuckled. “You oughtta trust our Padrino. From what I know of him, Gallo seems like a well-made man,” he thought for a moment, stroking his ghostlike stubble. “I almost wish we had him here.”

Amadeo joined him in his light laughter. “You’d best be careful, making wishes like that…” He paused, and made a tiny motion with his head in Lovino’s direction, an eyebrow once raised once more.

Renzo sighed. “Yeah, I know he’s there. Lovino’s not very sneaky,” At this he reached behind him and pulled Lovi up by his collar, depositing the boy into his lap. “What’re you up too, ya little rascal?” Despite the playfulness of his words, there was a slight edge behind them.

Lovino struggled to find his words. “I… I was just going through to g-get a drink…”

Renzo narrowed his eyes. “Liar. You were spying.”

Lovino’s eyes went wide. “P-please don’t be mad Zio!” he squeaked.

Renzo’s glare was deadly. Amadeo simply watched the debacle with curious interest. Lovino was practically in tears.

And then, as if a sheet of ice had been shattered, Renzo laughed. It was a loud, hearty laugh, and Amadeo joined him a moment later. Renzo ruffled his nephew’s hair. “If you’re planning on joining Cosa Nostra someday, you’ll have to be sneakier than that.”

Lovino was still slightly shaken, but he didn’t _think_ he was in trouble, so that was a good sign. Before he knew it, all his questions came bubbling up.

“Zio? What’s ‘our thing’? Who’re Rizzo and Bruno?… And who’s the old guy? Who died..?”

Renzo’s laugh returned in grandioso. “Well, I suppose you’re old enough…” He looked across the table at his friend. “Amadeo? You’ll help me explain?” Amadeo rolled his eyes jokingly and nodded.

Renzo rubbed his hands together, as if unveiling a master plan. “Cosi: Cosa Nostra is a group of people who work together with Amadeo and I. There are several Cosa Nostras, so they also have family names, with are usually the names of their bosses; the Godfathers.”

Amadeo smoothly picked up where Renzo left off. “Our family is the Marino family. ...Godfather Marino is the ‘old guy’, but he’s really not very old. A couple other families around here are the Rizzo family and the Bruno family.”

Renzo took over, “But The Bruno family’s boss died a few days ago, so his second-in-command is going to take his place. So, the Bruno family might change its name to the Gallo family pretty soon.”

“What what do you _do_?” Lovino asked again. Renzo looked at Amadeo, but he just shrugged. Renzo thought for another moment or so before carefully replying.

“Some businesses are afraid of people trying to rob them or cheat them out of their money, so they hire us to make sure that nobody does; or, if they do, that they don’t get away with it. ...So, I guess you could say we protect people from the bad guys.”

“Veramente?” Lovi’s eyes sparkled with newfound admiration.

Amadeo sighed and massaged his temples. “I suppose that’s close enough to the truth…”

Renzo’s boisterous laugh filled the room once more. “That’s right, Lovino. Hopefully one day you’ll be a made man like the two of us, hm?”

“Si, Zio!” This time, Lovino laughed with his uncle, happy to be a part of anything that Renzo was.

_“Héritier d'un mafieux notoire, Lovi, votre sort a été tracé dans la Main Noire…”_

_(Heir of a notorious mafioso, Lovi, your fate was traced in the Black Hand…)_

***

…This was when Lovino Vargas’ ambition to become a powerful mafioso began.

**********

 

[ A/N: thanks for reading the first chapter of Song For Little Italy!

A few quick notes:

The song this story is based off of is  **Gueules d’Aminche’s 'Little Italy'**. The lyrics are originally in French, thus why they (as well as all of the chapter names and story title) are in French.

I HAVE EDITED THESE LYRICS! The lyrics used here are tweaked so that the translation flows better into _English_ , and of course I've changed around names and such. The meaning of the song, however, remains _completely unchanged_.  I highly recommend listening to the original song. _(Although it does contain spoilers... Be warned.)_

In case you're not used to the human names - Lovino Vargas = Romano. Feliciano Vargas = Italy. Renzo Vargas = Rome. (I usually have Rome's name as Romulus, but I figured Renzo would work much better in this setting. And yes, he is the Italies' uncle here, not their grandpa.) Also, in case you're wondering, in the beginning of this chapter Lovino is four, and Feliciano is three; thus in the latter part Lovi is six and Feli is five.

All of my knowledge of the Italian-American Mafia was lovingly donated by various sources on the Internet; namely Wikipedia, and multiple criminal investigation websites. 

***

Now, for what you're probably reading these notes for - **TRANSLATIONS** : (which are products of google translate; please excuse any errors)

_“Ragazzi! Tornate sotto il ponte; saremo lì tra un po.”_ -  **"Boys! Come back under the deck; we’ll be there in a little while."**

_“Padrino,”_ -  **"Godfather,"**

_“Fratello, fratello, che cosa dicono?”_ -  **"Brother, brother, what are they saying?"**

_“Non lo so, ma hanno consegnato Zio alcuni tasti e un mucchio di soldi... Io penso che significa che avremo un posto dove stare.”_ -  **"I don't know, but they handed Uncle some keys and a bunch of money... I think that means we'll have a place to stay."**

_"Cosa Nostra"_ \- **"Our Thing"**

_"Cosi"_ \- **"So"**

_“Veramente?”_ -  **"Really?"**

_“Si, Zio!”_ -  **"Yes, Uncle!"**

***

Thanks again for reading! ...Your kudos and comments help keep me motivated ^-^ ]


	2. Refrain Un (Chorus One)

** Refrain Un (Chorus One): **

The sun was just beginning to sparkle over the horizon when Lovino began to yawn. He blinked sleepily, resting his head on his uncle’s shoulder. Renzo tousled the boy’s hair.

“Go on, Lovi. Off to bed,” He picked his nephew up and set him on the floor. “and make sure you don’t wake up Feli.”

Lovino rubbed his eyes. “Buona notte, Zio…”

Renzo smiled and gently pushed him along. “Buona notte, Lovi. Get some sleep.”

Once Lovino had made his way up the stairs and the bedroom door had closed behind him, Amadeo turned to Renzo with a bemused but condescending look.

“...You know you’ll go to hell for lying.”

Renzo simply laughed once more. “You know as well as I do that of all the things I’ve done, lying is the least likely to earn me the inferno!”

After his laughter had subsided and he had lit one of his cigars, Renzo looked back up the stairway with a small smile. “You know, I really do hope he does well in the family… He has the spirit for it; I can see it in his eyes,” he took a long drag of the Black Dragon, sighing out smoke. “Perhaps one day he’ll even be a Godfather, hm?”

_ “Lovino, tu seras le baron, tu seras le Parrain de tout le quartier Italien;” _

_ (Lovino, you shall be the baron, you shall be the Godfather of the whole Italian district;) _

***

Amadeo thought for a while, the familiar smell of Renzo’s smoke quickly filling up the entire house.

“Perhaps… just be careful with those kids, will you? The Mafia isn’t a safe place for children. They’ll always be in danger here… you know that.”

Renzo nodded solemnly. “Here is safer than anywhere else, though. Besides,” he smirked. “If Lovi’s anything like their father and I, he’ll learn quickly.”

Chuckling at his friend’s optimism, he shook his head. “I’m sure that he’ll do fine, so long as he stays alive.”

_ “Mais Lovino, tu vas passer ta vie dans à Little Italy, et tu y mourras aussi…” _

_ (But Lovino, you’ll spend your life in Little Italy, and you will die there too…) _

**********

[ A/N: yeah, yeah, super short chapter. Just you wait…

Ah! The first verse/chorus pair has been bridged! Now we can get on to the fun stuff… *rubs hands together maliciously*

**TRANSLATIONS:**

_ “Buona notte,” _ \-  **“Good night,”**

***

Thanks again for reading! ...Your kudos and comments help keep me motivated ^-^ ]


	3. Verset Deux (Verse Two) [1]

**Verset Deux (Verse Two): [1]**

_ “Vous aviez huit ans, commettant de petits vols, dans les rues de tous les commerçants locaux…” _

_ (You were eight, committing petty thefts, in the streets of all the local traders…) _

Lovino strolled down the streets of Little Italy, humming to himself as he watched the people going through their lives. Busy pedestrians and busy shopkeepers, bustling everywhere. Everyone was busy, always moving.

That was one of the reasons he wanted to work for Mr. Marino so much. Life seemed like it was easy when the whole world was at your back; no one could touch you, you were invincible. Because of this, he’d acquired a new favourite pastime - whenever he wasn’t allowed to follow Renzo around, he would wander down the streets alone, bothering some of  the shopkeepers.

He’d been learning about the way Cosa Nostra worked for four years, so he knew who was protected by his family and who wasn’t. Occasionally, he’d steal from those who were unprotected, just to give them a little initiative to consider becoming associates with Marino. He frequently ‘visited’ those who were under his family’s protection, just for fun.

...But those who were under Rizzo or Gallo’s eyes? They were strictly off-limits. Renzo had drilled it into his head, but it wasn’t as if he actually needed reminding. Rizzo and Gallo had fearsome families.

Besides, why take from them when he could safely steal from one of his padrino’s places?

He turned an unassuming corner and came to the place he’d unconsciously been heading. Karpouzi’s was a nice little produce shop that was always busy enough to stay interesting. There were fruit stands along the outside of the facade, as well as colourful displays in the windows. Lovino slipped into the store, unnoticed by the general public.

He looked around at all the fruit about the place; all kinds of things from oranges and pears to bananas and pineapples. From the floor across the room, he saw a familiar set of green eyes trained on him.

Heracles Karpouzi’s gaze narrowed at the sight of Lovino. The brown and white kitten curled in his lap looked up sleepily; when it saw what its human was looking at, it hissed and leapt down to slink behind the counter at the back of the store. Lovino smirked at the ten-year-old.

“What a scaredy-cat…” he mused as he continued his browsing. Heracles did not reply. He usually kept to himself around the Italian, never saying much - but always watching. He crossed his arms, but otherwise did nothing. Lovino laughed. “What? Not gonna defend your precious kitty?” His smile darkened. “...I bet you would if Marino’s dogs were after him.” Heracles’ eyes widened slightly, and any trace of defiance on his face slipped away.

Another favourite thing of Lovi’s was to threaten the cynophobic Greek with his Godfather’s hounds. The two were practically weapons with fur, and fiercely loyal to anyone Marino considered family. At a single word, they would tear an unfavorable associate or enemy mafioso to shreds, so what would the difference be for a child and his cat?

...Of course, Lovi knew that the dogs were strictly for business… but a threat was a threat when it came from the Mafia.

After a moment or two, the older boy composed himself. He got up from the ground and followed the kitten behind the counter.

“He’s not afraid of you,” he tossed over his shoulder coldly. “He just says you smell like smoke.”

Lovino looked down at himself, wondering. He lifted the collar of his jacket and sniffed it. He only smelled like Renzo’s cigars; he didn’t see what the problem was. He liked the scent of the Black Dragons. It was comfortingly familiar, and if it helped him chase away annoying cats, that was just a bonus.

He continued to make his way through the shop as if he were there with a goal in mind. He picked up and examined the fruit, tossing them between his hands. The longer he stayed, the stronger the sickeningly sweet smell of fresh fruit permeated his senses. He finally made his way back to the counter, where Heracles’ mother was waiting for customers of the paying variety.

Knowing that Lovino was no such type of customer, she smiled at him. “Hello, Lovino… how are you today?”

She chose her words with caution. She was used to the boy frequenting her store, and knew there was relatively little she could do to stop him if he wanted something. Even though he was a child, he was one of Marino’s family; and she owed both her life and her business to the godfather.

Lovino shrugged. “I’ve been worse, I guess,” he glanced behind her at a brown tail-tip disappearing behind a corner. “By the way, why do you let your kid have that cat in here? It’s kind of disgusting, having a dirty animal in a place that sells food.”

She rubbed the back of her neck and laughed a bit nervously. “I’ve told you before, hun. Herc just refuses to part with it. ...Besides, cats are clean animals, and it keeps the mice away. We wouldn’t want diseased rodents scuttling about, would we?”

Lovino glared. She was talking to him like he was a child. He hated when people did that. “No, I suppose not.”

Noting the glare, she switched subjects. “So anyhow, is there something I can help you with? Anything I can get you?” She motioned to a basket of fruit beside her. “We just got a shipment of pineapples and mangoes in, if you’d like some.”

He waved a hand to dismiss her. “No. Pineapples are sour, and mangoes are terribly slimy.”

She smiled politely. “Well, would anything else strike your fancy?”

He considered for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

Ms. Karpouzi nodded. “Okay, then. Have a nice day, Lovino.”

He let out a  _ humph _ as he turned to exit. “I’ll try.” He slinked through the aisles towards the door. He felt like he was being watched again, so he looked behind himself to see Heracles still glaring after him. Lovino smirked and waved his goodbye before leaving.

Once outside, he he leisurely walked by the outdoor displays. He laughed to himself as he grabbed an apple off one of the stands. He rubbed it on his shirt for good measure before biting into it.

He turned around smugly to the boy he already knew had followed him.

Herc growled at the invasive Italian. “Why do you do this all the time? We work hard to run this place, and almost every day you show up and take advantage of us!”

Lovino narrowed his eye and took a step forward. He was not afraid of the older boy, and he definitely didn’t appreciate being yelled at. He stood up taller and tipped his head back so that he could still look down his nose at Heracles. “Listen up, Karpussy,” he spat. “My uncle’s boss practically owns this place. If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t even have a business.” He laughed. “And do you know what that means? It means that as far as you’re concerned, my padrino  _ owns _ you; and therefore,  _ I _ own you. Does that make sense? It should.”

Again the Greek boy refused to reply, only balling his fists at his sides as rage flickered in his eyes.

Lovino turned away, satisfied with himself.

**********

[ A/N: alright, I got a bit impatient and decided to separate the different sections of the larger verses. You're welcome.

Sorry, no translations this chapter... I'll make it up to you, I promise.

Thanks for the kudos and comments! ]


	4. Verset Deux (Verse Two) [2]

**Verset Deux (Verse Two): [2]**

***

_ “Vous aviez douze ans, un de la foule, votre gang avait rejoint la famille…” _

_ (You were twelve, one of the mob, your gang had rejoined the family…) _

The black bandana was untied from his face, and Lovino blinked as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Not much changed. The back room of the building was dark, the only light coming from a few candles on the table in front of him. The damp air tasted like earth, and he fought to keep it in his lungs. He looked around the small room, trying to identify where he was.

There was nothing in the room by means of adornment; nothing on the walls or floor, no windows, nothing. Just rough concrete. In the center of the room stood the simple wooden table, on which the only things were the few candles, a sheet of parchment paper, a pen, and a knife. Seated on the side of the table opposite him were multiple mafiosi, and among them Lovino recognized his uncle’s friend Amadeo, and Mr. Marino himself.

Lovino instantly felt a wave of nervous anticipation; he straightened his posture and held his head higher to hide it. This was only the second time he’d seen the Godfather in person, and the first time had been eight years ago. He took several deep breaths, concentrating on the comforting pressure of Renzo’s hand on his shoulder.

After a few more moments, the hand was gone. Renzo went to sit with his comrades on the other side of the table. Lovino realized he had been staring down at the the grain of the wood, and snapped his head up. The anticipation ate at him from the inside out.

Godfather Marino stood up. If the room hadn’t been silent, it would have gotten quieter. Perhaps they all held their breath. Lovino wasn’t sure.

Marino took a breath, breaking the silence.

“Lovino Vargas.”

Lovino forced himself to breathe. He’d been waiting for this moment for years. “Yes, sir?”

“Are you ready?”

He nodded. “Y-yes, sir.”

At his stutter, a few of the mafiosi gave uncertain glances to each other, but they were all halted by Renzo’s fierce glare. He knew his nephew was ready. Waiting a few more years wouldn’t make any difference. The sooner Lovino was made, the better. Once he knew the attention was back to him, Marino motioned to the paper and the pen. “Read the contract aloud, and sign your name.”

Lovino took the pen in his hand and begged it not to shake. This was the easy part. He steadied his voice and began to read the words he already knew by heart.  
"Io, Lovino Vargas, giuro che sostenere i valori ei costumi di Cosa Nostra al mio ultimo respiro. Seguirò gli ordini di quelli sopra di me, e ti pagherò i miei debiti al mio Padrino. Farò la pace con i miei compagni; non ci sarà alcuna lotta fra noi. Non voglio commettere l'omicidio di un uomo fatto, senza il consenso del suo Padrino, sia nel mondo degli affari o di vendetta. Terrò i segreti della mia famiglia sotto la chiave di morte, e mi legano al codice del silenzio. Non voglio rompere Omertà; Io non parlo o cooperare con le autorità delle forze dell'ordine, anche se è io che ho subito un torto.

...Sottopongo alla volontà di Cosa Nostra fino alla fine dei miei giorni; e se così rompo i giuramenti fatti qui, volentieri accetto la pena di morte per mano della mia famiglia.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat and signed his name. The pen felt like it was made of lead, but the signature came out neatly, without a second thought.

He set the pen down and looked up at Marino; the man nodded solemnly. Now the initiation was to truly begin.

“Your oath has been taken. Now seal the pact with blood.” He took his finger and drew a circle on his left palm.

Lovnio stood still for a moment, processing what he was about to do. The knife on the table gleamed at him in the low light. He kept forcing air into and out of his body, ashamed at how badly his hand shook when he reached for the blade.

He adjusted his grip on the handle multiple times, his eyes following the gentle curve of silver metal. He took a deep breath, and set the tip of the blade on his palm.

He pushed just a bit; needles of pain shot through his hand and a few drops of red welled up around the point. He clenched his teeth and dragged the knife around the edge of his hand, tracing out the circle Marino had indicated.

With every millimeter of skin that was split, pain blinded him. He sank to one knee, hoping that the tears slipping out of his eyes would go unnoticed in the dark.

When the circle was complete, he dropped the knife on the floor, clenching and unclenching his fist, trying to find a position that eased the sting. Blood flowed into the cup of his palm, spilling over the edges and dripping down his arms and to the floor.

His right hand fell to the ground to support him. His breath was ragged; his fingers tore into the rough cement.

After several moments his breathing calmed. He steeled himself against the pain and stood, leaning heavily on the table with his right hand. He looked up at Renzo, who was watching him expectantly.

Marino lifted his arm, taking Lovino's attention away from his uncle. The Godfather reached across the table and took the contract. He studied it for a moment, and then crumpled it up into a ball. No actual records could exist, Lovi knew as much.

The man held out the ball of paper. “Take it.”

Lovino took the contract in his bloodied hand, watching in pained silence and the yellowed paper turned red.

Marino motioned to one of the mafiosi beside him. The man stood and came beside Lovino. He pulled a lighter from his pocket, flicking it on. The small flame drew closer, and Lovino shut his eyes.

The searing heat that followed forced him to open his eyes, only to squeeze them shut once more. The bloodstained parchment was enveloped in flame, and in the next moment, his body remembered what pain was. He cried out at the burning, feeling his skin blister as his wound was cauterized. He fell to both knees this time, his forehead against the edge of the table. His right wrist held onto the other, gripping it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. The fire looked like it was going to engulf his entire hand.

After what seemed like hours of cries and curses, the contract was nothing more than a pile of smouldering ashes. Unable to move his hand in any other way, Lovino turned it over to dump them onto the ground.

He looked up through the strands of hair, slick with sweat, that had fallen in his face.

Renzo, Amadeo, and a couple of the other mafiosi lept up to tend to him. Renzo immediately went over to wrap his arms around his nephew. “I’m so proud of you, mio figlio,” he murmured. Lovino felt his heart swell; he somehow managed a bittersweet smile through his clenched jaws.

Godfather Marino smiled at him.

“Welcome to the family, Lovino Vargas…”

**********

[ A/N: whelp, Lovi’s officially a mafia-bean…

Anywho,  **TRANSLATIONS:**

_ "Io, Lovino Vargas, giuro che sostenere i valori ei costumi di Cosa Nostra al mio ultimo respiro. Seguirò gli ordini di quelli sopra di me, e ti pagherò i miei debiti al mio Padrino. Farò la pace con i miei compagni; non ci sarà alcuna lotta fra noi. Non voglio commettere l'omicidio di un uomo fatto, senza il consenso del suo Padrino, sia nel mondo degli affari o di vendetta. Terrò i segreti della mia famiglia sotto la chiave di morte, e mi legano al codice del silenzio. Non voglio rompere Omertà; Io non parlo o cooperare con le autorità delle forze dell'ordine, anche se è io che ho subito un torto. _

_...Sottopongo alla volontà di Cosa Nostra fino alla fine dei miei giorni; e se così rompo i giuramenti fatti qui, volentieri accetto la pena di morte per mano della mia famiglia.” _ \-  **"I, Lovino Vargas, swear that I will uphold the values and customs of Cosa Nostra to my dying breath. I will follow the orders of those above me, and I will pay my dues to my Godfather. I will make peace with my companions; there will be no fighting amongst us. I will not commit the murder of any made man without the consent of his Godfather, whether in business or revenge. I will keep the secrets of my family under the lock and key of death, and bind myself to the code of silence. I will not break Omerta; I will not speak to or cooperate with the authorities of law enforcement, even if it is I who have been wronged.**

**...I submit to the will of Cosa Nostra until the end of my days; and if I so break the oaths made here, I willingly accept the punishment of death at the hands of my family."**

_ “Mio figlio,”  _ \-  **“My boy/my son/my child,”**

***

Danke for staying with me, there’s more on the way, I promise! ^-^ ]


	5. Verset Deux (Verse Two) [3]

**Verset Deux (Verse Two): [3]**

***

_“Vous aviez quatorze ans, prenant soin de toutes les affaires, payant les mauvais débiteurs…”_

_(You were fourteen, taking care of all the business, making bad debtors pay…)_

Lovino looked down at his watch. 10:30.

He seethed. Karpouzi was late. Again.

Looking back up at the brick-walled alleyway, he turned to a couple of the men behind him. They were leaning against the walls, periodically glancing at their watches, too.

This had happened nearly every month after he had been allowed to take over dealings with the Karpouzis. He’d barely been in the business for two years, but he’d already gained a reputation for his ruthlessness and ability to get jobs done. Besides, his uncle was Marino’s underboss now. It was only a matter of months until the old man keeled over; and then he’d practically be the son of the Godfather.

He huffed, his patience growing thinner by the second. He took a few steps to the left and kicked a dumpster.

“Where is she?!” he shouted. His companions murmured for him to be quiet, and the dog with them barked. He didn’t care.

“She’s late; every month, and I’m sick of it!” After a few more persuasive whispers, he crossed his arms and joined them on the wall. He leaned down and absentmindedly scratched the ears of the large white Mastiff laying beside him.

“Bene, bene. I’ll shut up… But once she gets here...”

Eventually, a pair of figures made their way down the alley. Lovino’s men tensed until it was clear that one of them was the woman they were waiting for. She made her way slowly down the alley, walking with a boy. He had her by the hand, leading her down to them.

At first Lovino growled at seeing Heracles accompanying his mother, but the sound soon slipped into a bemused chuckle. Perhaps he could actually get something done tonight. He stepped forward, motioning to the surrounding area with a sweep of his arm.

“So, Karpouzi… Finally showing up, eh? You’re half an hour late.”

Ms. Karpouzi began to spout off an apology, but Lovino waved his hand to cut her off.

“No, no. I don’t care why you’re late. What I care about is money.” He strode around the pair, sizing them up like animals. “I’ve been waiting for thirty minutes in this damned alleyway. If I don’t get my dues, there’s going to be problems.”

Her face paled, and Heracles tightened his grip on her hand.

Her voice was soft and shaky. “I-I… L-Lovino… you know it’s been hard for us lately…”

Lovino’s eyes widened with a rage he’d been keeping in relative check for a while. His voice, however, remained unnaturally calm.

“You mean to tell me… that you aren’t paying me?”

Heracles took a step in front of Ms. Karpouzi. “We’ve told you before, just give us time! The last few months have been rough, we haven’t been making much money,” He drew himself up to his full height, taller than Lovi. “Just leave us alone for a while, kid!”

Without another thought, Lovino lunged for him. He grabbed the boy’s shirt collar in his fist and pulled their faces together.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like I’m below you, you piece of shit!” he shouted, the anger finally punching through his voice. “I’m the only reason your little corner-store isn’t a thieves’ nest! I offer you protection, and what do you give back?! Excuses! Nothing but fucking excuses! My patience is gone, Karpouzi!”

He shoved the older boy back, causing him to stumble back towards his mother.

Lovino turned back to the mafiosi.

“Luca,” he called. The big white dog jumped up and trotted to his side. He was glad to finally have made his younger self’s threats very much a reality. One of the older men spoke, a look of mild concern on his face.

“Vargas, are you sure you want to do something like that? Isn’t it a bit… drastic?”

Lovi glared daggers at the man. “I’m in charge of this operation. You’re here for decoration; you know as well as I do that I could do this by myself. Of course I want this - the Karpouzis here need to learn their lesson.” He turned away before his companion could answer him. “Luca!” he called again, with more urgency than before. The dog growled, and his hackles raised.

Grinning maliciously at the now wide-eyed Heracles, Lovino snapped his fingers.

“Luca. Attack.”

In that same instant, the large furry mass leapt and slammed into the Greek, tearing at him with its teeth. He raised his arms to protect his face, but the weight of the beast knocked him over. Ms. Karpouzi screamed as the two grappled on the floor; blood seemed like it was everywhere within seconds. Barking and growling and cries of pain echoed into the night.

Lovino stood, watching the fiasco, laughing in sadistic malice.

After a few more moments of struggle, he whistled. Luca immediately stopped, coming back to sit on his haunches by Lovino’s feet. His previously white muzzle was stained pink.

Herc moaned from his spot on the ground, curled into himself. Lovino stepped over and prodded him with the toe of his boot.

“I always told you that our dogs would get you, didn’t I? Perhaps next time you’ll listen when I tell you something.” He motioned for his gang to follow him. He stepped over the gasping form of Heracles and his horrified mother, out of the alley and into the dark of the streets. He paused midstep at the line where the shadows of the alley and the dark, hazy glow of bluish streetlamps met in a clashing harmony.

“Next month, I expect to be paid in full. Otherwise,” he glanced back over his shoulder at the pair.

“You’ll be facing a threat worse than a dog bite.”

**********

[ A/N: Ahhh I did another part yay (sorry, I’m exhausted… school ugh)

**TRANSLATIONS:**

_“Bene, bene,”_ \- **“Okay, okay,”**

***

Hopefully I’ll have more out soon, and we can actually get to the plot…

Feedback is always appreciated, and thanks for reading ^-^ ]


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